


i'm glad i didn't die before i met you

by wordcraze



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordcraze/pseuds/wordcraze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a ghost, and Zayn is the only one who can see him. </p><p>Or the one where Zayn and Harry are soulmates, but Harry dies before he and Zayn can meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm glad i didn't die before i met you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daddykink (halogenharry)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halogenharry/gifts).



> Thanks so much for this prompt! I might have strayed from some specific things, but I hope you do like it, as I had a lot of fun writing it!

Liam considers his job to be very important. He brings soulmates together, after all, and most of the time, things fall into place without a hitch. It’s a fun job for an angel, and he’ll take it over singing in an eternal heavenly chorus or bringing about a deadly plague. Next on his list is Harry Styles and Zayn Malik; two young boys fated to meet at the coffee shop around the corner. Sweet and effortless.

Liam is sitting by the window of the coffee shop, watching Zayn, and he’s waiting for Harry to walk in so he can finally give them both the nudge to start their journey as soulmates. As he waits, he hears a familiar voice behind him. 

“One of your assignments?”

Liam turns his head, and sighs heavily when he sees Louis sitting there with a faint smirk on his lips. He obviously means to bring trouble, and Liam isn’t in the mood for it.

“Not today,” Liam rubs the bridge of his nose, wishing the demon to just go on his way, and wreak havoc elsewhere, but Louis isn’t easily shaken off.

“Wouldn’t it be a shame,” Louis says. “If something were to happen?”

Liam furrows his brows, and he looks out the window to see Harry crossing the street towards the coffee shop. He hears the snap of Louis’ fingers, and a car comes out of nowhere, pummeling into Harry, sending him flying across the pavement. Liam watches in anguish as Zayn stands up, hurries out of the shop to observe the commotion happening just outside, and sees the boy, who would be his soulmate, die on the street.

~ ~ ~

Harry finds himself laying on his bed, and he’s unsure how he got here. In fact, he’s unsure about a lot of things. He’s disoriented, a little confused, and he thinks maybe he’d just woken up from a long nap. Harry’s surroundings seem a little dull, and grey, so he decides a bit of caffeine is just what he needs to perk up.

He leaves his apartment, and almost immediately, he feels as if something is off. He passes a friendly elderly neighbor from down the hall, and she walks by him without a look or a word, which is odd, because she always makes it a point to ask him how his day has been. But perhaps she doesn’t see or hear him, and he decides to just blame it on the fact that she’s old.

It gets a little stranger once he gets outside. The sun is shining, but the light seems almost subdued, and he doesn’t feel the heat on his skin. In fact, he doesn’t really feel anything. He passes by his neighbor’s yard, and the dog is running around behind the fence, so Harry approaches to scratch behind the dog’s ears like he does every day. But as he gets closer, the dog gets into a defensive stance, maintains distance between them, and growls before yelping, and running away. Harry stands there in confusion, and he’s slightly hurt at his furry friend’s rejection, but he backs off, thinking that perhaps this is just a bad day.

Harry tries to make himself feel better by smiling at everyone he passes on the street, but they don’t even look at him, or worse, they just look right through him, as if he wasn’t even there. Was everyone having a bad day? He walks down the street feeling like the last man on earth despite the people around him, and it scares him. When he steps off the curb, a car zooms directly in front of him, causing him to jump back on the sidewalk, then he looks around, expecting people to react to the rude driver, but no one says a thing, and nobody asks if he’s okay.

Harry is angry now, and he doesn’t really want to admit it, but he’s a little scared, and he wonders if the world is currently playing an elaborate joke on him. He hurries across the street to the coffee shop because he figures if anyone is going to speak to him, it’ll be the barista, because it’s what they’re paid to do. He pushes the door open, and to his surprise, people actually look, and he’s pleased with this because finally, he’s being acknowledged. But their expressions are confused, and a little amused as they turn back to whatever they are doing.

“Must be the wind,” says the girl behind the counter, and a few of the customers laugh.

The wind? That’s it. This is getting ridiculous.

Harry stands in the middle of the coffee shop, and waves his hands around, exclaiming, “HELLO! I’M RIGHT HERE! CAN’T YOU SEE ME?!”

And nothing. No one looks up, no one says a thing. Harry feels tingles creep up his neck, and a cold dread settling at the bottom of his stomach, and he’s not sure if he wants to cry or scream or both. Instead, he throws the door open again, and he rushes out, not really looking where he’s going, and he doesn’t really care because for some sick, bizarre, impossible reason, he’s invisible to the world.  
He’s about to step off the curb again, but before he can, he feels himself being yanked backwards, back to safety on the sidewalk as a car zooms past. Harry whirls around, wide-eyed, and he comes face to face with a boy, around his own age, looking frustrated and anxious.

“Isn’t it common sense to look both ways before crossing the street?” he asks, clearly annoyed. “That car almost hit you.”

Harry’s jaw drops. The boy can see him. “Y-You… you can see me?”

The boy’s frustration visibly grows, and he huffs. “Of course I can see you, you absolute dolt, and you almost got yourself killed. Just the other day, someone died here.”

Harry grabs the boy’s arms, his eyes wide with confusion, and also relief. “Oh my god,” he whimpers. “You can see me. I think I may be invisible to everyone else…”

“What,” the boy shakes Harry off. “Are you talking about?”

Harry decides that he needs to prove his mad ramblings, so he immediately steps in front of a group of random strangers, waves his hands, and yells in their faces, causing the boy to gasp, and grab his arm, pulling him back.

“What are you doing?!” he hisses, then he turns to the group, and apologizes. “I’m sorry for him, I don’t even know this kid, but—“

“Young man,” a woman furrows her brows, approaching the boy. “Are you okay?”

“I r-really don’t know if he’s okay, but I’ll take him to a hospital if he really needs—”

The woman shoots a concerned look to her group, then turns back to the boy. “Who are you talking about, love? Shall we call someone for you?”

And behind her, the boy sees Harry smiling smugly. 

“Um, a-actually, I…” he stammers a little, then he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, thank you, I’ve just had a bit of a… spell.” He then turns on his heel, and walks away with Harry trailing behind him.

“Do you believe me now?”

“Please go away.”

“No,” Harry steps in front of him, blocking his way. “I need you to help me. I don’t know what’s happening. Please, I just need help…”

The boy looks nervous, and hesitant as he drags his fingers through his dark hair as if weighing out the pros and cons in his head. “This is weird, okay? And as much I enjoy a few odd things here and there, this is… this is just too much, and not good for my mental health. I don’t want to get involved, I really don’t.”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m not leaving. I can’t, and you’re the only one who can help, so you might as well accept it.” He crosses his arms, still blocking the boy’s way, not budging until he gets the answer he needs. “I’m Harry. What’s your name?”

The boy shifts from one foot to the other, nervous, and perhaps on the brink of giving in. “I’m Zayn.”

~ ~ ~

Liam finds the demon somewhere in the Bahamas, sunbathing. “What did you do?!” he roars, and a harsh white light surrounds him, like the entire heavenly host shares his anger. 

Louis is unfazed. He thinks angels are so overdramatic, and he finds Liam to be the most dramatic of all. “What did I do? I killed the pretty one’s soulmate.”

“You know what else you did, I’m not stupid.”

“That’s debatable.”

The light around Liam grows, and it would be unbearable for a mortal, but for Louis, the heat is just slightly uncomfortable. 

“Oh, for the love of pants,” Louis moves back a little. “Turn down the holiness, and I’ll explain myself.”

Liam reluctantly forces himself to calm down, and the light around him diminishes to the usual pleasant glow. “Go on, then.”

Louis sighs, and turns his body, facing Liam. “Yes, I killed him, but not really. I just want to play a little game, is all.”

“What kind of game?”

“If they’re really soulmates, then there will be a way around it. That’s why Lashes is the only one who can see Curly, so in a way, I’m being quite nice.”

“Human lives are not a game,” Liam says. “But I don’t expect demons to understand that, so I know I can’t expect much from you.”

“Hey now, I’ve got feelings too,” Louis pouts, pretending to be hurt. “I just genuinely enjoy messing with you, Liam, it’s how I show affection. And aren’t you up for a challenge?”

“I just want to do my job! But I can’t because you’ve killed him!”

Louis sighs. “Haven’t you been paying attention? I’ve just done away with his mortal coil, but he can still be seen by his potential love. And none of that floating through walls stuff; he can touch things, move things around, he doesn’t need to be taught like Swayze in that one movie.”

“And how exactly does this end?” Liam asks. “What are you expecting?”

“That’s the beauty of it, Liam, I don’t know how it’ll end, and I don’t know what to expect. It’s up to them. Are they going to let a pesky little thing like death come in between true love, or will it be too much?”

Liam doesn’t like this. He likes things simple, and this assignment was supposed to be effortless, but now it’s one big mess thanks to a troublesome demon. Though despite the blip in plans, he does see how this can be intriguing, and it can really test the powers of fate. Maybe, he thinks, he should go along with it for now.

~ ~ ~

Harry follows Zayn home despite Zayn’s obvious discomfort with the plan, but Harry insists. He manages to squeeze through the door even when Zayn tries to shut it in his face, then he makes his way to the sofa, and sits down. 

“You can’t just barge into people’s houses,” Zayn grumbles.

“And what are you going to do?” Harry asks. “Call the police? Tell them to take the Invisible Man to jail?”

Zayn just groans, and throws up his hands like he gives up, then he disappears down the hall, leaving Harry in the living room. He takes the time to look around, and inspect his surroundings because he figures he will be staying here for a while. And even if he’s not welcome, he’ll have to insist. Zayn is the only hope he has. 

It’s a small apartment, and a little messy in a charming, starving artist type of way. There are stacks of books piled everywhere, palettes and brushes with dried paint, and unfinished sketches. Harry stands up, walks over to a table with a few picture frames, and he picks one up, assuming the people in the photo to be Zayn’s parents; a man with a wide smile, and a pretty woman with their arms wrapped around a grinning Zayn.

“Hey,” Zayn walks back into the living room carrying a Polaroid camera. “I’m gonna try something.”

“A photoshoot?”

“Just go with it,” Zayn lifts the camera, and snaps a shot of Harry, then a photo slides out. He holds it up, and waits for a picture to appear, but when it finally does, he grunts and furrows his brows like it’s exactly what he expects. “I’ve got to be dreaming up this whole thing. There’s no way I’m awake.” He tosses the photo on the coffee table, and Harry immediately scoops it up.

There’s no one in the picture. Just an empty room. 

It’s harrowing, and Harry feels the slight ache of building tears in the forefront of his skull. 

“I don’t understand,” he mumbles, dropping the photo back on the table. All he does is go about his life, and he tries to be a good person, so he doesn’t understand why the universe is deciding to punish him like this. It’s not something he can handle, but then again, he can’t handle much. Harry buries his face in his hands, and he stays like that for a while until he realizes that he’s been sitting in silence for several minutes, so he slowly looks up, and sees Zayn staring at him. “What?”

Zayn shakes his head, “Nothing. I’m trying to kind of… mentally compose myself. And I’m thinking, well, if I’m going absolutely mad with what’s going on, then how much worse could you be feeling right now? And if the roles were switched, what would I be asking of you?”

Harry straightens up a little, and he looks at Zayn, wide-eyed. “You’re going to help me?”

“I guess,” Zayn sighs. “Don’t expect anything too helpful though since I’m not exactly well-versed in…” he motions to Harry. “Witchcraft, or whatever the hell it is you’ve got yourself tangled up in.”

“It’s not witchcraft!”

“You sure? Maybe you’ve pissed off a witch.”

Harry lets out a huff, “I think I would know if I’ve pissed off a witch.”

“Actually,” Zayn replies. “You wouldn’t. Real witches aren’t exactly vocal about what they are.”

“Well, I haven’t pissed off anyone!”

Zayn grunts in response to this, then he grabs his laptop from the table, and opens it up. “Have you gone exploring lately? Possibly in deep forests, abandoned houses—”

“No.”

“Dabbled in the occult?”

“No!”

Zayn scratches his chin, and continues scrolling down the screen. “This could be the Hero’s Journey.”

“The what?”

“The Hero’s Journey,” Zayn looks up from his laptop. “The hero is called to adventure. Do you feel a sort of thirst for a quest? Have you met with your mentor, or guide? Most of the time, in the guise of an older fellow.”

Harry groans, and buries his face in his hands again. “No. No to everything. None of that makes sense to me, and none of it clicks.” He stands up, takes a deep breath to compose himself, and he starts to pace. He tries to think, and takes everything Zayn says into consideration, but none of it applies to him, he’s sure of it. And in the midst of all his thinking, he tries to remember the last memory he has before waking up earlier. This forces him to come to a revelation, and he sits down again. “I… I can’t remember what I was doing before today. I don’t remember yesterday, or even the day before that. It’s just… a fog.” He squeezes his eyes shut, and rubs his fingertips against his temples. 

Zayn sets his laptop aside, and he leans forward. “Try and think about the last thing you remember. Anything at all.”

Harry continues to keep his eyes shut, racking his brain until he reaches some sort of answer, though it’s a hazy one. “I was getting ready to go out. I was lacing up my shoes. But I’m not exactly sure where I was going. Maybe to the shops.”

“Do you remember anything beyond that?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. That’s all I have.”

They spend the rest of the day on the couch, with Zayn going to various websites, and emailing a professor with an affinity for the supernatural, while Harry sits there in silence, trying to sort through his foggy memories, and occasionally responding to Zayn’s questions. 

Before they know it, it’s dark outside, and Zayn’s lids are drooping, heavy with exhaustion. Harry can’t help but watch him for a moment, noticing how his long lashes cast shadows across his cheeks, and how pretty he looks in this dim lighting. But he quickly casts those thoughts aside, embarrassed with himself since there are more pressing matters at hand. But he is quite pleased that, of all people, Zayn is the one helping him despite his hesitance earlier today.

“Thank you,” Harry says softly. 

Zayn perks up after dozing off for a moment, “What was that?”

“Thank you,” Harry repeats. “You didn’t have to help me.”

Zayn scoffs. “Yeah, I did. Or you would’ve been absolutely relentless, banging on my doors and windows at all hours until I gave in.”

Harry cracks a faint smile, “That’s probably true. But, still… thanks.”

“Sure,” Zayn shuts his laptop, rolls his shoulders back, then stands up. “I’m absolutely knackered. Let’s pick this back up tomorrow, yeah?” He stretches his arms over his head, and yawns. “Crash on the couch, if you want. G’night.” Then he disappears down the hall, and into his room.

Harry wishes he could say that he’s tired too, but he doesn’t feel the heaviness of his limbs that usually comes around this time, and he blames it on the excitement of the day. Though his version of excitement doesn’t really include being invisible to the world except in the eyes of one boy. 

He wanders the small apartment, his fingers brushing against the walls, the spines of books, and across dusty tables. He’s taking in his surroundings, admiring the way everything looks almost magical with nothing but moonlight illuminating the room. Despite his bad luck when it comes to uncovering some memories, his thoughts have never been clearer. Harry wishes he could’ve done more with his life. He wishes he could’ve traveled, called his mother more, took the longer route. He wishes a lot of things. But now, being in this curious predicament, he’s unsure how he’s going to get himself out of it. He hopes he can just fall asleep, wake up in his bed again, and this will all be a bad dream, but sleep eludes him. The sunrise turns the sky into a light pink color, and moments later, sunlight streams through the curtains, and into the apartment. 

“Up already?” Zayn walks into the living room, his eyes still sleepy, and his hair tousled. “Or… did you not sleep?”

“The latter,” Harry replies with a sigh. “I’m not even tired, that’s the strange part.”

“Oh, is that the strange part?” Zayn says sarcastically as he starts to make himself a cup of coffee. 

Harry glares, but he ignores Zayn’s sarcasm. “Let’s go to the library today. There ought to be something in one of those books that can help me.”

It takes a bit of convincing, but Zayn takes his coffee to-go, and he and Harry are walking to the library a couple blocks down. It’s a big building, slightly intimidating with its old architecture, and high ceilings, but it’s got every book under the sun, including books whose publication stopped years, and years ago, and forgotten from the world.

Before Harry looks through the books, he sits at a computer, pulls up a search engine, and types in ‘ _why am I invisible_?’ in the search bar, but everything that comes up are self-help websites that talk about having confidence. He starts again, and types ‘ _why am I LITERALLY invisible_?’ but he gets nothing that can help him. He sighs in defeat, then he stands up, and goes to walk through long, seemingly neverending aisles. He flips through books that talk about witchcraft, and the supernatural, then he glances at a couple new age ones, but nothing seems to make sense to him. 

Harry hears a shriek to his left, so he turns, and sees a woman standing there, jaw dropped, and eyes wide, full of fear. For a split second, he thinks that she can see him, but he’s confused about her reaction, until he remembers. He’s holding a few books, and to the woman, it looks like they’re floating, so he gasps, and drops them, but the damage has already been done. She screams, and runs away, wailing about a ghost in the library. Zayn suddenly shows up behind him, grabs his arm, and drags him out. 

~ ~ ~

They’re laughing. How could they not? The situation is ridiculous, and there’s nothing they can do but laugh at it. They’re walking on a crowded sidewalk, and it looks like Zayn is laughing by himself, which makes them laugh even more. 

“Let’s go before they toss me in a padded cell,” Zayn says, leading Harry across the street. They walk as far as they can until there are no more crowds, and it dwindles down to just a few people, then finally, to none. They’re at a park, and Zayn finds a shady, isolated spot, so the both of them lay down on the grass.

They lay in silence for about a minute until Harry’s low voice brings them out of their thoughts. “What if I stay like this forever?”

“No, I don’t think you will,” Zayn replies, and Harry is thankful for the confidence in his tone. “Whatever made you like this has to get you sorted out again. These things don’t last forever. I know this, I’ve read a lot of books.”

Harry smiles a little, and he stares up at the sunlight peeking in through the branches. “Thanks, Zayn.”

~ ~ ~

A day later, Zayn’s old professor finally gets back to him, and Zayn has to pretend that he’s writing a novel on the subject matter in order not to raise suspicion. He’s told that often, people who are dead don’t know that they have passed on, and they continue to think they are still alive because they have unfinished business. Of course, Zayn is familiar with ghosts and unfinished business, but this never crossed his mind when it came to Harry. But it makes sense, and that’s the sad part.

Harry passes the time doing various things like (badly) completing some of Zayn’s old, unfinished sketches, reading whatever books are laying around, or knitting scarves. Today, he’s knitting a pink and green disaster of a scarf, and Zayn is sitting across from him, reading the email from his professor, and thinking about how to bring it up to Harry. 

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your last name?”

“Styles. Why?”

“Nothing,” Zayn mumbles, and he types in ‘Harry Styles’ in the search bar. He clicks on the first article that comes up, and it confirms his fears

_‘A boy, identified as 21-year old Harry Styles, was killed immediately in a hit and run on 5th and Main…’_

Something nags at him in the back of his mind, and he reads the street names again, which are familiar to him since they are nearby, and he frequents them often. Then he reads the date, which is just last week. Zayn sits there in silence, and the realization slowly creeps up on him, causing the blood in his veins to feel like they’ve turned to ice. 5th and Main. The coffee shop. 

Zayn had seen Harry die.

He gasps a little, and it sounds like a choke, then he slams his laptop shut as if that would be enough to make it disappear. Harry looks up from his work, glances at the laptop, then back at Zayn again.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing,” Zayn replies immediately. “It’s nothing.”

Harry puts down his knitting, stands up, and grabs the laptop, yanking it away before Zayn can take it back from him. He opens it, and the article is still up, and it doesn’t take long for him to skim through it before realizing what had happened to him.

“Oh,” is all he says, then he sits back, and a blank expression is painted across his face. 

Zayn’s hand is trembling, but he reaches out for Harry who immediately pushes him away before standing up.

“Harry,” Zayn tries to grab for him again. “Wait, we can fix this.”

“Fix what?” Harry snaps, his jaw tightening a little. “I’m dead. You can’t fix that.”

“But we can—”

“We can what? Huh? Carry on like this forever? Me wandering around forever with only you to depend on? Just do me a favor, Zayn, and fuck off for a bit.” Harry stomps to the front door, unlocks it, and then slams it shut behind him, leaving Zayn in an anxious and miserable mess.

Zayn is unsure whether to follow Harry, or give him his space. He knows this is a huge revelation, and Harry needs time to process something this big, and Zayn needs to do the same as well. He recalls that day, and he remembers the squeal of the tires followed by a loud crash, and he can still see Harry, bloodied and bruised, sprawled out on the road. It hurts to think about, knowing the boy he begrudgingly cares for is dead, and his ghost is wandering out there, sad and confused.

It’s late, and he doesn’t know if he can wait any longer, so he grabs his phone and keys, and rushes out the front door. The sun has set a few hours ago, and it’s dark, but Zayn tells himself that he won’t give up until he brings Harry back home. There’s hardly anyone out tonight, and it’s a little eerie, but Zayn is determined. And anyway, how hard would it be to find an angry ghost? All he’ll have to do is follow the screams.

Zayn wraps his arms around himself, bracing against the slight cold, and he makes his way down the dark, and empty street. Where could Harry possibly be? Then a thought strikes him. Harry probably went to the place of his death; the street in front of the coffee shop. Zayn hurries to 5th and Main, and the usually busy intersection is quiet, and there’s no sign of Harry. Perhaps he already went back to the apartment.

Zayn turns, about to make his way back home, and he sees the one thing he had never hoped to encounter, especially alone, in the dark, far from safety. A gun is pointed to his head, and a carelessly thrown together mask obscures the man’s face.

“Your wallet,” comes his gruff voice.

A whimper sounds in Zayn’s throat, and tears spring to his eyes, hoping that would be enough to appeal to the man’s humanity, “I-I left my wallet at home,” he stammers, and it’s true, he was in too much of a hurry to bother with it. He wishes he had his wallet, as it would be the only thing that could spare his life. Maybe he would die right here. What an odd thing, to die in the same place as Harry. Perhaps they could be ghosts together. That wouldn’t be so bad…

Zayn shuts his eyes, expecting to hear the gun go off, but instead, he hears a loud crack, and a thud. He quickly opens his eyes, sees Harry standing there, holding a thick wooden board, and the man passed out, or dead on the ground, Zayn can’t be too sure. But all he cares about is the fact that Harry is here, and he had just been saved from what would have been a sure death.

“You okay?” Harry asks with great concern in his eyes, then he looks down, and kicks the gun away. “I’m so, so sorry, this is—” But before Harry can finish speaking, Zayn leaps forward, and throws his arms around Harry’s waist, and starts to cry. He’s not sure if it’s because his life had been saved, or out of relief for finally finding Harry. But whatever it is, it’s spilled over, and doesn’t stop flowing. 

Harry keeps his arms around Zayn, and he doesn’t let go until they’re in the safety of the apartment. They don’t bother with the lights since it’s already so late, and they both know their way around with their eyes closed.

Zayn sniffs, and he pulls back, wiping the tears from his face. “I’m… I’m sorry you’re a ghost.”

Harry shakes his head, and takes Zayn’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry you almost became a ghost.”

Zayn can’t help but laugh at this, and he sniffs again, managing a faint smile as he looks at Harry. It’s a shame, really, that he’s dead, and he hopes there’s a way to reverse it even though he knows it’s most likely impossible. But he wants to keep those forest green eyes in his life for as long as possible, and maybe that’s selfish of him, and he finds that he doesn’t really care. He’s happy he’s the only one that can see Harry, and even if the boy doesn’t have that long until he crosses over, at least Zayn is the only person he can spend that small window of time with. At least he still has that.

When Zayn touches Harry’s face, he’s surprised that the boy’s skin feels warm beneath his fingertips, and it’s not what he expects with a ghost.

“You’re warm,” he murmurs. And when a smile tugs on Harry’s lips, that’s the only sign he needs to know that it’s okay act on what he wants to do next.

Zayn leans in and kisses Harry, and for some reason, it feels like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment, and for this boy.

~ ~ ~

Louis is the one to find Liam this time, and he comes across the angel meditating on the edge of a lake.

“Why do you meditate?” Louis asks. “Isn’t it pointless? You’re already an ethereal being, you don’t need to achieve anything.”

Liam glares. “It helps with the stress that _you_ cause.”

Louis sits next to him, and smiles, “Here’s some good news. They’ve kissed.”

“I know.”

“I thought you’d be happy about this.”

Liam sighs, and turns to Louis, “I’d be happier if Harry wasn’t dead. He’ll cross over, and Zayn will never find real love again. Your stupid little games have consequences, and I know you don’t care, but I do, and I’ll have to watch over a boy who will spend the rest of his life pining over his dead soulmate.”

There’s a brief silence between them, and Louis breaks it with a little grunt. “It’s not that I don’t _care_ ,” he mumbles. “It’s just that, well, it gets you so worked up, and that’s the most emotion you show towards me. Other than that, you’re quite indifferent.”

Liam scoffs. “What’s it to you?”

Louis wrinkles his nose, and shrugs. “I have a crush on you.” And another long silence comes in between them, which Louis breaks yet again. “Will you say something?”

More silence ensues, but Liam finally replies, “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. And I think you know me well enough to catch me in a lie. And anyway, I don’t really like to spend my time and energy on something I don’t care that much about.”

“This can’t be,” Liam says in a low, monotonous tone. “I’m an angel, and I don’t consort with demons.”

“Okay, yes, fair enough, but you do think I’m cute. You blush sometimes.”

“I do not—”

“You’re blushing now!”

Liam quickly gets up, brushing off the dust on his trousers. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t, you’re just—” but Louis is cut off by a flurry of wings, and a split second later, Liam is gone. “—Scared.”

~ ~ ~

Harry and Zayn stop looking for ways to alter Harry’s fate, whatever it may be. They don’t know when he’ll finally cross over, but they stop researching, and instead, they spend their time getting to know each other, ignoring the fact that one is alive, and the other is dead.

Harry tugs a lopsided cap he knitted himself on to Zayn’s head, and he wraps an already unraveling scarf around his neck as well. Zayn grins, and lovingly strokes the soft fabric.

“What are your parents like?” he asks as he reaches over, twisting Harry’s curls around his finger. 

Harry smiles, leaning into Zayn’s touch. “They’re great. My mum and dad split up when I was younger, so I’ve got a stepdad, and he’s fantastic too. I think what hurts the most about this whole thing is knowing how they’re probably feeling right now.” He wrinkles his nose, and looks down, but he somehow manages the faintest of smiles when Zayn scoots closer. “What about you? What are your parents like?”

“My mum’s lovely, though a bit too overprotective,” Zayn smiles fondly. “But I can’t fault her for it, that’s just what mums do. And my dad has always been supportive of everything I do. He’s a firm believer in letting his kids make mistakes, and to use them as learning experiences. So they balance each other out. It’s sweet.”

“They seem like lovely people.”

“They are,” then Zayn adds with a sad smile. “Wish you could’ve met them.”

Harry rests his head against Zayn’s shoulder, and replies softly, “Me too.”

The days go on like this, and Harry’s already lost track of how much time has gone by, but he’s dead, so he doesn’t think that time applies to him anymore. Sometimes, he goes out with Zayn, sits in the back of his classes, or reads over his shoulder when he does homework at the library. But the rest of the time, he’ll just hang back at the apartment, and wait for Zayn to get home. He’s comfortable existing like this, and Zayn is always the best part of his day. Harry had never expected things to blossom the way it does with Zayn, but when he really takes the time to think about it, he can’t think of any other outcome but this. Zayn is the only one who can see him, and there has to be a reason for it. They have to be meant to be, even if their situation isn’t an ideal one. 

~ ~ ~

Something changes when Zayn comes home from class one night. He rushes into the apartment, makes his way towards Harry, takes the boy’s face in his hands, and kisses him hard. Harry is surprised, but pleasantly so, and he goes along with it, but he’s curious in this sudden change to Zayn’s usually shy, soft approach to affection.

“Where’d this come from?” Harry asks with amusement as Zayn pulls him down the hall, and into the bedroom.

“I’ve been thinking,” Zayn replies as he suddenly pulls off his shirt, causing Harry to blush deeply. “I like you, and you like me. So I don’t think we should let some little thing like—”

“— Me being a ghost?”

“Right, like you being a ghost get in the way of…” Zayn motions his hands in between them.

A smirk appears on Harry’s lips, and he tilts his head. “You want to sleep with me, Zayn?”

“Fuck, yes.”

The way they move is fluid, and smooth without a hint of awkwardness like most couples during their first time, and it’s as if they can predict each other’s movements. They rid themselves of every article of clothing before they tumble back on the bed.

Zayn is kissing down Harry’s body, licking his collarbone before trailing more soft kisses down his chest, and stomach, wanting to build up the excitement despite his utter desperation to get off. But this isn’t just about getting off, he thinks. It’s so much more. He moves back up, and he props himself up with his hands, hovering over Harry while quietly considering what sex should be like with a ghost. Bizarre, that’s what it is. Do they need condoms? Lube? Lube, definitely. He grabs the small bottle from the nightstand drawer, squeezes some on his fingers, then he nudges Harry’s thighs apart, and brushes against his hole before sliding in one finger. Zayn loves the way Harry reacts to his touch, and he’s encouraged to slide in a second digit, then he slowly starts to curl his fingers, pumping them in and out.

‘Strange’ isn’t the right word for it, but the way they’re so comfortable, and familiar with each other’s bodies is a little puzzling considering they’d never touched like this before. Zayn is inside Harry, and they’re moving together beautifully, and in sync, and the connection goes deeper than anything either have ever felt. They’re whimpering, and breathing in each other, reluctant to let go especially when they feel the stirring in their stomachs.

“Imagine someone walking in on you now,” Harry says, laughing breathlessly. “Just think about what they’d see.”

Zayn can’t help but laugh at the mental image of it, then he silences Harry with a hard kiss.

~ ~ ~

Harry knows the exact moment he makes the decision to stay. 

It’s 2 am, and Zayn is fast asleep. As usual, Harry doesn’t sleep, so he’s lying next to Zayn, with the boy curled up against his chest. The moonlight shines into the room through the curtains, and illuminate Zayn’s beautiful face, prompting Harry to gently brush his fingertips along the shadows on his skin. Every shift of his body is exciting to Harry, and he loves the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, but most of all, he loves the sound of Zayn’s strong, beating heart. It means that he’s alive, and that’s all Harry wants.

If there is a heaven, surely, it cannot compare to this.

~ ~ ~

Zayn is against the idea, but Harry insists. He wants to see his headstone.

“Are you sure?” Zayn asks. “It’s only going to upset you. And it’s going to upset me too.” 

Harry slides his arms around Zayn’s waist, and tucks his face into the boy’s neck. “Then I won’t let go of you the entire time. I’ll hold you to remind you that I’m here, and not below the ground. Okay?”

Zayn still doesn’t like it, but he finds it difficult to say no to Harry especially when he gets cuddly like this. He’s incredibly hesitant, though he’s not going to let Harry go, and face this alone. 

They take Zayn’s car, and they drive to the cemetery on the other side of town. Harry is quiet the whole time, and the only thing keeping him somewhat sane is Zayn’s hand firmly in his grip. They now close to the cemetery, and Harry can feel his throat tighten at the sight of the many headstones fast approaching, and for a split second, he agrees with Zayn, and thinks that this is, in fact, a bad idea. But they’re here now, and they can’t turn back.

It’s quiet, but it’s expected, as they’re surrounded by the dead. And for a place considered to be creepy, it’s certainly beautiful, with the green, just cut grass, trees with brightly colored blossoms, and beautiful bouquets placed in front of gravestones. 

Harry and Zayn are in no rush, and they read what’s engraved on the stones they pass, taking in the names, and the years. Some die too young, and most die old. Harry tightens his hold on Zayn’s arm, purposely ignoring a particular headstone he spots in the distance. One that looks brand new, surrounded by fresh flowers. But he can’t continue to overlook it, especially when Zayn finally spots it, and they start to make their way closer. Harry averts his eyes, not wanting to be right and see his name etched in the stone, but the sigh coming from Zayn confirms his thoughts. 

_Harry Styles, February 1, 1994 – April 12, 2015_

What a strange situation to be in, staring at one’s headstone. Harry kneels down, and traces his fingertips over his name. He wonders how his mother reacted to news of his death, and he hopes his father isn’t taking it too hard, but Harry knows he definitely is. He wonders how much his sister cried at the funeral, and he thinks about how much she’s crying now. He hears sniffling behind him, so he turns, and sees Zayn wiping away a few tears.

“Hey,” Harry stands up, and an amused smile appears on his lips. “You’re acting like I’ve gone away.” He takes the boy’s face in between his hands, and gives him a soft, lingering kiss. “I’m here, Zayn. I’m right here.” They stay like that for a while, until Zayn’s sniffling subsides, and they finally open their eyes again, locking gazes, allowing themselves to savor this moment of closeness. 

“Aw, cute,” a voice comes out of nowhere, and Harry and Zayn whip their heads around to see two boys standing behind them; one with an earnest face and soft eyes, and the other with sharp features, and a devilish smirk. “What’d I tell you, Liam? They’d overcome the pesky little death thing.”

The boy called Liam rolls his eyes, “Louis, honestly, now you’re saying you’ve been rooting for them the entire time?”

“Of course, I have!” Louis exclaims. “I’m a sucker for true love!”

Harry’s brows draw together in confusion, and he takes a hold of Zayn’s hand, then steps forward. “Can you see me?”

“Clear as day,” Louis replies. “And I’ve got to admit, this is basically all my fault. You dying, and all.”

Harry can feel Zayn’s grip tighten on his hand as he speaks, “What do you mean this is your fault? Who are you two?”

Rather than replying, a blinding white light surrounds Liam, and an outline of what looks like wings spread from his shoulders, while flames emit from Louis’ skin.

“Ouch!” Liam jumps back, his light dimming a little. “That stupid fire thing you do hurts!”

Louis glares, “And you think your holy light is the most comfortable thing to stand next to? Please, Liam.”

“See,” Liam jabs a finger at him. “This is why you and I can’t ever work out, because—”

“I took you to the bloody moon last night, Liam! The moon! You said my eyes were brighter than the stars!”

“I got lost in the moment!”

“Oh my god,” Harry moves forward, dragging Zayn with him. “Shut up! Shut up, shut up. Okay, so you’re like, God and Satan, whatever—”

“Nope,” Louis interrupts. “Liam’s just some worker angel, and as for me, well, some would say I’m like the devil’s right hand man—”

“Be quiet,” Liam snaps, then he turns to Harry. “I’m sorry, I’m so, very sorry, I really am. This was supposed to be a simple job. You and Zayn… you two are soulmates, and it was my job to bring you together. You were supposed to meet in that coffee shop on the day you died, but Louis thought it would be funny to kill you off instead.”

Louis gives Harry a sheepish smile, “Sorry for murdering you.”

This is all too much for Harry to process, but the one thing that sticks out, the only thing he cares about, is that he and Zayn are soulmates. It explains so much. He doesn’t have to question why he’s so drawn to Zayn like a magnet, or why he feels the need to be with him all the time, and how he’s willing to do the impossible like defy death.

He ignores the banter, his annoyance at being killed off, and focuses on the main point. “What happens now? Am I supposed to cross over? Because you can forget it, I’m staying right here.”

“That’s an option,” Liam says. “You can stay, as you are, if you choose.”

“Fine, that’s what I choose.”

“Not so fast,” Liam holds up a hand. “You can stay like this, with Zayn, not quite dead, not quite alive, without much of a future together. Or you can come back to life.”

Harry glances at Zayn, then back to Liam, “What’s the catch?”

“Everything resets. You never died, so none of this never happens, and you forget all about your time with Zayn. You forget about meeting him, or knowing he’s your soulmate. I no longer play a part in your fate, and I can’t push you two together, so there’s a chance you’ll never meet.”

“No,” Harry replies immediately, but Zayn grabs his arms, forcing the boy to face him.

“Listen to me,” Zayn says in a hushed voice. “You have to do it. I can’t keep you here, and force you to just wait for me without a life of your own. You need to be alive, please, I need your heart beating again.”

“No!” Harry wails, his hands gripping on to the front of Zayn’s shirt. “I’ll forget you! You might end up with someone else, and that won’t be right. Please, just let me stay. I’ll wait for you, and years from now, we can go into the light together.”

Zayn shakes his head, and he swallows back, trying to force his tears away, but they are inevitable. “I love you,” he whispers, and he means it. “And I’ll find you again. I promise.”

Tears stream down Harry’s face, and he continues to shake his head, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows Zayn is right. His death affects his family, and he can’t put them through that type of agony, but he also doesn’t want to take the chance of being with someone else who’s not Zayn. Harry knows the right choice is life, and he has to trust that he will, somehow, find Zayn again. 

Harry pulls Zayn in again, and he kisses him like it’s their last, but there’s a silent promise in between them. Their hearts will never stop calling out for each other, and perhaps one day, they will be together again.

~ ~ ~

Zayn wakes up the next morning, but he doesn’t know how he got back home. The last thing he remembers is being at the cemetery with—

Harry!

Zayn pushes off the blankets, and rushes down the hall, into the living room, half expecting to see a curly-haired boy on the couch, knitting something, or coloring in one of his sketches, but his apartment is empty. He knows Harry chose life, but what about the conditions? They were supposed to forget everything about, and they would no longer have these memories of each other. 

They had said Harry would be the one to forget, but they never said anything about Zayn.

Excited with this realization, Zayn gets dressed, and he hurries out his building towards 5th and Main, to the coffee shop. He walks inside, orders a black coffee, but he doesn’t even drink it as he waits at a table by the window, facing the door. An hour passes, and two, then three. Zayn stays until it’s time to close, and his coffee has gone cold.

A week later, and Harry still hasn’t shown up. Weeks turn to months, and there’s still no sign of him, but Zayn stays true to his promise, and he sits in that coffee shop every day without fail. Sometimes he drives to the cemetery just to make sure, and he’s always relieved to see the now empty space where Harry’s headstone once was, and that’s enough to put him back on his search for the boy he loves.

~ ~ ~

Six months pass, and Zayn still doesn’t give up. Sometimes, he thinks about what would happen if the day comes where he says “enough,” but he doesn’t think that will ever come. He hates that the thought crosses his mind, but he is only human, and waiting for Harry is painful. But not having Harry here is something that’s more painful, so he carries on.

Zayn is sitting in the coffee shop in his usual place. Window seat, facing the door. He doesn’t really expect Harry to walk in today, but he stays anyway, and finishes his coffee. There’s only an hour left until closing, and usually nobody walks in during that last hour, so he decides to call it a night. He tosses his cup into the bin, gathers up his things, then he walks out the door. He bumps into someone, and he mumbles quick apology.

“S’alright, mate, my fault.”

Zayn freezes in his steps at the low, smooth, and familiar voice, and when he looks up, he finds himself staring at a boy with brilliant green eyes, and chestnut brown curls framing his impossibly handsome face, and all he can think is “ _Finally_.”


End file.
